Whispers In The Dark
by Saya Moonshadow
Summary: AU Years ago, Nokama witnessed her mother's violent death at the hands of a stranger. Now, ten years later, it seems the killer has come back to finish the job. VakamaNokama. M for gore, language, innuendo, and the like. INDEFINITE HIATUS.
1. Despite the lies that you're making

I know I have other fics that need updating, but unfortunately, this just begged to be written

**I know I have other fics that need updating, but unfortunately, this just begged to be written. Sorry.**

**Disclaimer: Anyone you don't recognize as canon most likely belongs to me. All canon characters belong to LEGO Enterprises. The definitions at the beginning and end of each chapter were taken from Wikipedia and my old psychology notes.**

**Summary: AU. Years ago, Nokama witnessed her mother's violent death at the hands of a stranger. Now, ten years later, it seems the killer has come back to finish the job. Vakama/Nokama.**

**Whispers In The Dark   
By: Saya Moonshadow**

_In psychology, memory is an organism's ability to store, retain, and subsequently retrieve information. Traditional studies of memory began in the realms of philosophy, including techniques of artificially enhancing the memory._

X x X

With a large yawn, a pair of blue eyes came blearily open. She rubbed at them, yawning again, and then cleared her throat. She winced. Almost felt like her throat was covered in fur or something. Thirsty. Still yawning, she got up out of bed and shivered in the cold night air.

Winter in Mata Nui could be cruel. The nights were bitterly cold, and the days scarce better. Chill wind and ice always seemed to be blowing.

As she crept past her older brother's room, she smiled, listening to him snore lustily. Yes, Onewa was a snorer, alright...

She tiptoed down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. The house was old and creaky, and if one put their foot down wrong, it would sound almost like the house was about to come down around their ears. She smiled at the thought. Her father was always complaining about it, and always promising he would fix it someday, to her mother's amusement. He never DID get around to it, after all.

Upon entering the kitchen, she began to make her way towards the sink and grabbed a cup from the cupboards as she went. She quickly filled it up and drank gratefully, feeling the ickiness in her throat disappear instantly. With a satisfied sigh, she rinsed it out, put it in the sink and prepared to go back to bed.

A sound behind her stopped her from doing so.

A choke? Or a cough?

She turned around, walking slowly towards the family room. Her mother was standing in the middle of the room, her back to her. Was it her that had coughed? And what was she doing standing in there at this time of night? It was past midnight!

"Mom?" She stepped forward and placed a hand on her mother's shoulder.

Almost immediately, blood spattered all over her as a blade seemed to grow from her mother's back, and she screamed as the blade ripped straight through her mother's body, cleaving her in two.

"M...Mom?!" she gasped, staring down at the body on the floor. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her eyes snapped upwards to the one holding the sword. Yellow. Yellow eyes. Slowly, he raised the blade, and she knew he was going to kill her too, but she couldn't move, she was in too much shock, oh Mata Nui he killed her mother and now he was going to kill her too--

"What's going on down here?!"

Even in the deep haze of shock and horror, she could recognize that voice. It was Onewa, her older brother. His orange eyes were narrowed at the dark person's form; but all he could see was the blade, shining with - was that _blood_?! - and the bright yellow eyes. Then his gaze dropped to the floor, and his eyes widened in horror.

"MOM!" he shrieked. His sister gulped and swayed horribly, feeling dizzy. Blood was still soaked into her nightgown, drenching her. To Onewa's horror, the killer was still holding what seemed to be their mother's top half up, and before he could register what had happened, it had been thrown at him, knocking him down. He let out a shriek of terror, and then one of pain as a small knife buried itself into his right shoulder.

His sister gulped again, sinking to her knees. Her eyes were wide and glazed over, but she was aware of the dark person who had killed her mother kneeling before her. He cupped her face with one hand, and she stared straight into those bright yellow eyes before he shoved her away from him and dashed straight through the open door.

Her head hit the floor, and she blacked out, Onewa's screams ringing in her ears.

X x X

_The late nineteenth and early twentieth century put memory within the paradigms of cognitive psychology. In recent decades, it has become one of the principal pillars of a branch of science called cognitive neuroscience, an interdisciplinary link between cognitive psychology and neuroscience._

X x X

**AN: Yes indeed, I am enjoying myself. This was inspired by the anime **_**Elfen Lied**_**, as well as severe boredom as I went back over all my old notes from the psychology class I took in my junior year. Wish I could take a more advanced course in it, actually, psychology's fascinating. The concept of memory has always fascinated me, as seen in my 2007 project **_**The Road Not Taken**_**, but I decided to try a different thing with it this time. Instead of simply losing the memory, this time it's repressed.**

**I tend to do one big writing project per year (2006 was **_**The Painmaker**_**, and 2007 was **_**The Road Not Taken**_**), but with some others on the side. **_**A Path Well Traveled **_**is my 2008 big project, but I'm looking forward to finishing this one as well.**

**Please review!**


	2. Your love is mine for the taking

I know I have other fics that need updating, but unfortunately, this just begged to be written

**I was tempted to cut this chapter in half, but decided not to. It contains some important stuff, after all, and there really isn't a point that I could SUCCESSFULLY cut it. So you get the full fourteen pages. Hah.**

**Disclaimer: Anyone you don't recognize as canon most likely belongs to me. All canon characters belong to LEGO Enterprises. Siahta belongs to Sylla Shadowfrost. The definitions at the beginning and end of each chapter were taken from Wikipedia and my old psychology notes.**

**Summary: AU. Years ago, Nokama witnessed her mother's violent death at the hands of a stranger. Now, ten years later, it seems the killer has come back to finish the job. VakamaNokama.**

**Whispers In The Dark  
By: Saya Moonshadow**

_Repressed memory is a significant memory, usually of a traumatic nature, that has become unavailable for recall. The term is somewhat of a misnomer because it is often used to describe memories that have been dissociated from awareness as well as those pushed from awareness (repressed) without dissociation._

X x X

Nokama sighed and walked out the door of her house, trailing after her older brother. This was the third house they'd been to in the past year, and she hoped the family might finally be settling down. Metru Nui was a big city, but so far it seemed nice.

Today was the third day of school, and both she and Onewa were dressed in uniforms, Onewa still muttering darkly about the tie around his neck and tugging at it every few minutes. She chuckled, watching him. If there was anything her older brother hated, it was stiff or formal clothes.

He glanced behind him and scowled at her. "You don't have to laugh, you know. S'not very nice, laughin' at someone who's uncomfortable."

Nokama smiled, but tried to stop laughing. "Sorry. You just look so funny like that though. Never thought I'd see you without your bandana, is all."

Onewa grunted. "They wouldn't let me wear it, said it promotes gang violence or some other bullshit like that. Least I don't wear on my head, I wear it 'round my neck."

She laughed again and patted his shoulder. "You'll learn to live without it. What do you have first period?"

He rolled his eyes. "Precalculus. C'n you imagine? Precal this early in the mornin'. Someone up there hates me. What about you?"

"Film Appreciation."

"No way!" His blue eyes widened in disbelief. "I don't fucking believe it. You get to watch MOVIES first period? While I'm stuck doing sines and tangents and all that crap?"

"Yup. And I can sleep through them too, we don't have tests or anything on the movies we watch."

Onewa shook his head in disbelief, messy brown hair getting in his eyes. "Fucking sophomores," he muttered.

When they arrived at the bus stop, there was already someone there. Nokama couldn't see his eyes, as his bangs were covering them, but she could see the cord of a pair of headphones trailing from his jacket pocket and up to his ears. Obviously one of those kids who didn't care what went on so long as he had music to listen to. Probably stay plugged into it all day, for all she knew. His hair was bright orange, with dark red tips. A red hat, worn backwards, covered his head. His hair stuck out from under it, almost touching his shoulders.

Onewa ignored the strange boy, instead staring down the street, looking for the bus. He perked up visibly when it rolled down the street, relieved that they at least wouldn't be late to school. If there was one thing Onewa Kendrix hated, it was being late to anything. He always preferred to be on time, and tended to get irritated quickly if anything messed with his timing.

Wordlessly, he, Nokama, and the strange red-haired boy all got onto the bus, and he pulled his sister down with him onto the first unoccupied seat. As Nokama sat down, she dropped her backpack, and winced as she heard something catch and somebody curse. Her backpack had fallen straight into the path of the strange boy, she realized, and quickly went to help him.

When she did though, she stopped suddenly. Bright yellow eyes glared up at her as the boy picked himself up off the floor and shoved her backpack at her. "Be careful," he snapped, turned his music player back on and strode down the aisle of the bus to sit alone near the back.

"Nice." Onewa said, making Nokama scowl at him. He continued regardless. "Good first impression, little sister. Making someone trip over your shit. And what a glare! You better hope you don't have any classes with him."

"Shut up," she huffed and pulled out a book, reading silently for the rest of the journey. She couldn't concentrate though; something about that boy had riled her up. She'd never seen eyes of that color before.

...but wait, hadn't she? They seemed oddly familiar, almost...

She shook the feeling off and stood up as the bus rolled to a stop.

X x X

"Now, I know you all have been sitting wherever you want for the past few days, but today we're starting a new seating chart." the teacher, a tall man with white and red hair and blue eyes, said. Just by looking at him, one could tell that he was a strict disciplinarian. No fooling around in this class. "And I'm also aware that some changes will also have to be made later, but for today, sit where I assign you. You can whine to me about it later. Alright, over here, I want Whenua Setanta...interesting last name, Setanta, you aware of where it's from?"

"One of the greatest of mythical heroes." Whenua, a black haired boy with startling green eyes, replied as he sat where the teacher had indicated. Pridak nodded. "Good, glad to see you know your history, after all, that's what this class's about. Behind Setanta, I want Typhon Resen, and behind Resen..."

It trailed on and on. Nokama felt her eyes closing. It was the period right before lunch, and she was hungry, standing here with her back to the wall of Pridak's classroom. This school was so weird. Here, you were permitted to call a teacher by their first name, just so long as you remembered to add the honorary "Ms.", "Mr.", or "Mrs." before it. And Pridak Haai was certainly an odd teacher.

"And here, I want Nokama Kendrix. Oi, which one of you clowns is Nokama Kendrix?"

"Here. I'm Nokama." She raised her hand timidly, willing herself not to quail as Pridak's blue eyes fell upon her. He frowned. "Next time I call your name, Kendrix, answer. Right then, I want you right here. And next to you, Vakama Katar. Another interesting name there, Katar, you aware of it?"

"It's a punching sword." a voice to Nokama's right replied. "Also called the Bundi dagger. It's noted for the horizontal hand grip, which results in it being almost like brass knuckles in blade form."

It was the boy who'd tripped over her backpack on the bus. He was staring at Pridak dispassionately, backpack slung off of one shoulder. "Correct." Pridak nodded, then frowned at him. "Though if you don't take that hat off, Katar, you'll get a detention. Hats aren't allowed in class. Put it in your backpack then take it out again after class. Wear it in here, and it's mine and you go to detention. Understand?"

Vakama Katar sneered for a moment, before it was replaced by a blank look and he nodded and stuffed his hat into his backpack. His hair stuck out at odd angles from his head now, and Nokama giggled. No wonder he had sneered about taking it off.

She was distracted from her thoughts by Pridak calling out, "In front of Katar, Matau Alto, now. And wipe that stupid grin from your face, this isn't a picnic."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the boy called Matau said cheerfully, saluting. He had green hair and red eyes, but in a much brighter, more vibrant shade than Nokama had ever seen before. Also, his hair wasn't combed. In fact, it looked as if a comb hadn't gone anywhere near his head in at least a month. Pridak scowled at him. "I've heard of you, so don't think any of your crap will be tolerated," he said. "Axxon had quite a lot to say about you, and some of the pranks you pulled in his class last year. Well let me tell you this: any hordes of crickets, paper airplanes, tacks on chairs, or floors covered in slippery soap, and you're out of here. Understand?"

Matau didn't seem to be cowed at all, Nokama noticed, in fact, his smile widened if anything. "Gotcha, sir!" he chirped, and plopped in front of Vakama, turning around and starting to talk. Pridak rolled his eyes but kept on the roster.

"So, firespitter, together again, eh?" Matau was saying to the redhead, who by now had one earphone back in and was tapping one foot to the beat of the song he was listening to. To Nokama's surprise, Vakama smirked. "Like old times, airhead."

Matau nodded. "Just like old times!" His gaze fell on Nokama, and he grinned. "Hey there! Guess you're new, right? I'm Matau, and this lame-ass here's Vakama!"

"I know," she replied. "I heard what Mr. Pridak said. My name's Nokama."

"Lame-ass yourself," Vakama snapped before she could go on. "At least I have a brain."

"Math geek!" Matau shot back.

"And you're just jealous that I can add and subtract without using a calculator." Vakama snorted, then looked at Nokama. She was pretty, he had to admit, with big blue eyes and long light blue hair pulled back into a high ponytail with a pink ribbon. Then he frowned. "You're the girl who tripped me on the bus."

"It was an accident!" she protested as Matau laughed. "Seriously, I didn't mean to!"

Instead of snapping at her like he ordinarily would have, he rolled his eyes and turned away. "Whatever. Just don't do it again." The next second, the other earphone was in, and he was dead to the world.

"Don't mind him," Matau whispered to Nokama once he was sure his friend couldn't hear him. "He's just being emo-sad 'cos school's started and he can't spend all day writing music like he did all summer."

"He writes music?" she asked, suddenly interested.

Matau nodded. "Yeah. Pretty good music too, but don't tell him I said that. Probably good enough to win one of the school awards for it, but he's too lazy to go for that." He rolled his eyes.

"Kendrix, Alto, if you two don't shut up and tell Katar to take those things out of his ears, all three of you are getting detention!" Pridak barked from the front of the room.

Quickly, Matau turned around and yanked Vakama's earphones out, pointing furiously to Pridak while avoiding the fist the redhead sent his way, as Nokama took out a pencil and her notebook.

X x X

Onewa groaned as he sat down next to his sister at one of the lunch tables. In one hand was a paper plate with a piece of pizza and packet of fries, and in the other, a soda. "Finally! Last period felt like it'd never end!"

Nokama smiled at him, chewing on her own pizza. "I never knew a mealtime to come by that you weren't hungry. How'd your classes go?"

"Alright, but I got into a fight with this chick first period."

"Oh?" Nokama raised a brow. "How did THAT happen?"

Onewa chewed on his pizza as he spoke. "I was kicking her chair while the teacher, Brutaka or whatever the hell his name was, was going on about the class rules. Anyway, she turned around and told me if I didn't stop, she would, an' I quote, 'fuck my shit up'. I told her to go to hell and that I'd kick her chair all I fucking wanted, and she started yelling at me. Hot DAMN that bitch could scream loud." He winced and rubbed his ear.

"What did Brutaka do?"

"Eh, he just told us to finish it later and shut up or he'd send us to the principal's office."

Nokama shook her head. "You sure know how to pick them, Onewa."

"Hey there, mind if we sit with you?"

She looked up and smiled at the green-haired boy that had already sat down next to her, and then at the scowling redhead who had sunk down next to Onewa. "Sure thing. Matau, this is my brother Onewa. Onewa, these are Matau Alto and Vakama Katar. They're in my fourth period class; they sit next to me."

"Nice t'meet you." Onewa said. "So, you guys are sophomores too?"

Nokama watched as her brother and Matau chattered away at each other, and chanced a glance at Vakama. To her surprise, he was staring at her. She blushed and looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk and looked back at him, attempting to glare, but then stopped.

His eyes...his bright yellow eyes were boring straight into hers with a frightening intensity.

_Why do I feel like I've seen those eyes before?_

Suddenly, Onewa frowned and looked over at the quad, which was right next to the cafeteria. More tables were littered throughout it, but he wasn't watching the people at any of those tables. "What the hell is going on over there?"

Matau craned his neck and then sighed. "Oh, don't worry about it. It happens all the time."

The brown-haired boy stood up, shoving his empty plate away from him. "I'm not gonna just sit here and let those assholes torment some girl!"

"Relax!" Matau told him. "They do it every day. There's nothing you can do, trust me, I've true-tried." He rubbed his back ruefully. He still had some scars there from the beating he'd received by trying to help the girl they constantly tormented.

"What's going on?" Nokama asked as her brother stormed off in the direction of the spat. Matau sighed. "There's a girl here that keeps getting picked on. Truth be told, I dunno why. But it always happens, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. And anyone who tries to stop 'em gets beaten up along with her. About a long-year ago, I tried helpin' her, and got my ass kicked."

"Who are these people?" she asked, feeling her own temper rising. "They call themselves the 'Piraka'. They're led by Zaktan Furacão, nasty guy. See, that's him over there."

She glanced over at the person he was pointing to. It was a tall boy, most likely a senior, with wild green hair and red eyes. "He looks like you." she observed.

"Trust me, I wish it wasn't so." Matau muttered. "He's my cousin. Doesn't stop him from beating the crap out of me every once in a while though, does it?"

Without another word, Nokama had stood up and marched off in the direction her brother had gone. After a brief glance, Vakama and Matau both got up and hurried after her. If she was about to confront the Piraka, she might as well have SOME insurance, after all.

X x X

This was the worst day of her life. Well, maybe not THE worst, but it sure contended for the title. Siahta wasn't quite sure why she was so constantly tormented by Zaktan and his gang, but it happened, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

She willed herself not to cry as she was shoved to the ground for the nth time, wishing more than anything that the ground would just swallow her up and be done with it already. Her backpack was in the hands of the one called Hakkan, who was rummaging through it eagerly.

"Now, just what the hell d'you think you're doing?"

That wasn't one of the Piraka's voices. Siahta chanced a glance upward, and was startled to see a boy with brown hair and blue eyes standing in front of Zaktan, fists clenched. He was tall, but nowhere near as tall as the Piraka leader. Accordingly, Zaktan stared down his nose at him.

"None of your business, underclassman. Go away."

"Let her up." the boy demanded. "She didn't do jack shit to you, so why pick on her?"

"Why?" Zaktan asked, and chortled. He glanced around at his gang. "Hear that? This dumbass wants to know why we do this shit."

"Cos it's fun!" Hakkan grinned, and then burst out laughing.

Before anyone could blink, Onewa's fist had connected with the red-haired senior's face, and knocked him down. The next moment found Onewa being pummeled by the five remaining members of the gang. And at that precise moment, his sister arrived.

Nokama was a gentle girl, but she also had a sense of justice. And she wasn't going to allow both her brother and an innocent girl get beat up for no reason at all. Zaktan had time to glance up as a shadow fell across him before she had slapped him straight across the face. All activity halted.

Zaktan was in shock. No one had ever dared to slap him before. EVER. Hell, not even his mom had the guts to do that! "What the fu--" he snarled, but she interrupted before he could go on.

"You're despicable, you know that?" Nokama said, blue eyes blazing. "I can't believe you would do such a thing. Look at her! She did NOTHING to you! Leave her alone!"

It is impossible to say what might have happened next if a man with black hair and red eyes hadn't come marching up to them at that precise moment. Like Pridak, he had an unmistakable air of no-nonsense around him, only more so, if that were even possible. He glared at the sprawled teenagers before growling out, "Just WHAT the hell is going on here?"

"Sorry, Mr. Teridax, sir," Zaktan said, getting up off of Onewa and bowing slightly. "We were just showing these underclassmen some...demonstrative moves."

"Were we indeed, Master Zaktan?" Teridax asked sarcastically. "Looks more like you were raping the poor boy."

At this, Zaktan went a fiery red and did not answer.

Teridax glared around again. "You lot have three seconds to get this place straightened up before I suspend all of you for the rest of the month. Get a move on!"

"Who was THAT?" Nokama asked Matau as Teridax strode off.

Matau looked mightily as though he were trying to hold in a snicker. "That, my friend, was Teridax. He's the vice principal, and scares the crap out of everyone except the principal, Mata Nui." He dusted Onewa's shirt off for him, commenting, "And that was just plain stupid. Didn't you hear-listen to what I said?!"

"Obviously not." Vakama said boredly, one earphone in. "Otherwise he would have heeded it."

"Nothing of the sort." Onewa growled, rubbing his cheek. Already, it was turning purple from the beating he'd received. "Just couldn't stand there and let that poor girl get trampled, could I?"

He looked over at her, and was surprised to see her on her knees, tears falling from her eyes. What was more surprising though, was the boy standing in front of her, with white hair and glasses.

Whatever Siahta had thought before about this not being the worst day of her life was now discarded. She hated her life, and it was made worse by the fact that Nuju Atama had witnessed it. She expected him to say something, but the white-haired boy merely snorted and handed her a white square of cloth before saying, "Get up, you're being ridiculous." before walking away.

X x X

"DAD! We're back!" Onewa shouted, slamming the door of the house open. A tired voice answered him, "Don't slam the door, Onewa. It'll fall off one of these days."

Smiling affectionately, Nokama hugged the man who came out of the kitchen to greet him and kicked off her shoes. Lesovikk Kendrix was no longer the vibrant, happy man he had once been, and his dark hair now had a few touches of gray in it (he sometimes attributed this to his son's reckless behavior). He was quiet now, and sometimes surly, but despite this, he still showed his children the love and care he knew they needed.

"How was school?"

"Interesting." was all Onewa had to say before he ambled past his father and into the kitchen in search of food. "It was exciting," Nokama told Lesovikk when he turned to her questioningly. He nodded. "I see. More Onewa shenanigans, I'm guessing?"

She sighed. "Yes."

He nodded again and put a hand on her shoulder, steering her into the kitchen where Onewa was busy wolfing down several pieces of bread. "I see. Tell me about it."

X x X

That night, Nokama found she couldn't sleep. This wasn't such an odd occurrence, and when it happened, she usually went to go sit by the window until sleep came. Tonight was no different, and she sat in her chair by the window in her nightgown, absentmindedly braiding and unbraiding her hair and staring out into the night.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she stood and squinted out at whatever it was. She saw a red hat turned backwards and bright orange hair, tipped with dark red, and when the person turned his head, a pair of yellow eyes stared right into hers.

He smirked and pointed at her, then walked out of her sight completely.

She sat down hard, running trembling hands through her hair.

_I know I've seen those eyes somewhere before...but where?_

X x X

_Although much debate exists in the media and public arena on the topic of repressed memories, studies consistently demonstrate that amnesia can occur in survivors of trauma. Repressed memories may sometimes be recovered years or decades after the even, most often spontaneously, triggered by a particular smell, taste, or other identifier related to the lost memory, or via suggestion during psychotherapy._

X x X

**AN: That last part I also debated about, but decided to leave in after talking to **_**Zanda Waffle 07**_** about it. He was all for it, so whatever. God I love psychology. Nothing TOO big -pokes Zaktan- happened here, but I'm hoping to get the story really rolling after this.**

**As usual, if you have any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them. Also, in this story, Matau does not have a crush on Nokama. I thought about it, and it seems like an unnecessary plot twist to me. He'll probably flirt with her a few times, but nothing serious. It's just what teenagers do. -shrugs-**

**I based the layout of the school on my own high school, although I am relieved to say that Teridax is nothing like the vice principal at my school. Wanna envision my vice principal? Think of Luigi from the Mario Bros., and you have my vice principal.**

**Reviews, please!**


	3. My love is just waiting

**Jeez, I had to rewrite this one so many freaking times! It just wouldn't go right! -scowl- But I finally got it right, so there. Be amazed. 18 pages, because I must be insane.**

**By the way, the song from Vakama's Mp3 player is "The Diary of Jane (Acoustic Version)" by Breaking Benjamin. I like the acoustic one better than the original. It's prettier.**

**Disclaimer: Anyone you don't recognize as canon most likely belongs to me. All canon characters belong to LEGO Enterprises. Siahta belongs to **_**Sylla Shadowfrost**_**. Arya belongs to **_**Arya-Metru**_**. The definitions at the beginning and end of each chapter were taken from Wikipedia and my old psychology notes.**

**Summary: AU. Years ago, Nokama witnessed her mother's violent death at the hands of a stranger. Now, ten years later, it seems the killer has come back to finish the job. Vakama/Nokama.**

**Whispers In The Dark   
By: Saya Moonshadow**

_Repressed Memory Syndrome, the clinical entity used to describe repressed memories, is often compared to psychogenic amnesia, and some sources state the two as equivalent. Some research indicates that memories of child sexual abuse and other traumatic incidents can be forgotten and that any study that has looked for evidence of traumatic or dissociative amnesia after child sexual abuse has found it. Evidence of the spontaneous recovery of traumatic memories has been shown, and recovered memories of traumatic childhood abuse have been corroborated._

X x X

_There is a little boy in front of her, but she can't see his face. He is crying because of something, sitting in front of the deserted school and crying his heart out. She wonders what's the matter with him, but doesn't ask - she is waiting for her mother to pick her up and quite anxiously at that. It is cold, and she doesn't like the cold._

_But when the crying hasn't stopped five minutes later, she toddles over to him, clutching in one arm the stuffed Muaka that goes with her everywhere. Onewa always tells her that she is too soft; she must learn to be strong or she will be taken advantage of wherever she goes. What does he know? It is always good to show kindness to someone._

_He looks up when she sits down next to him and smiles at him. Neither of them say anything for a moment, and then at last, he speaks. "What are you doing?"_

"_You look sad," she counters. "Is something the matter?"_

_Tears well in his eyes again - such a pretty shade they are, bright yellow as the sun - and he sniffles, wiping at them with one hand. "Th-they forgot about me again..." he whispers. "They always forget me..."_

"_Huh?" she asks, confused. Who has forgotten him?_

"_My mom and dad," he says. "They always forget that I'm waiting for them...and they never come for me...I don't know how to get home without them..."_

_She thinks this is unfair. Parents leaving a child out in the cold like this because they cannot remember he's waiting for them to come and get him? It is nothing short of terrible, and she immediately engulfs him in a hug, knocking him over._

"_W-what are you doing?!" he cries, as she props herself up on her arms above him. She can see the fear in those yellow eyes._

"_I won't ever forget about you!" she promises, staring down at him and willing him to know that she's telling the truth. "Never, never, never! Just tell me your name an' I'll remember it always!"_

_He is silent for a minute, and she pushes his bright orange hair out of his face. It's in need of a good cut, she muses before her attention is claimed by the thing he says next._

"_My name is--"_

X x X

_Eyes. Yellow eyes. Yellow like the sun. Like gold._

_Where has she seen those eyes before?_

X x X

To Nokama's annoyance, she found her cheeks were wet when she woke up. Even more annoyingly, for the life of her she could not remember the dream that had brought it on, except for a flash of yellow.

Yellow...

She heard footsteps outside of her door and quickly wiped her face off as her father poked his head through. "Sweetie? Are you awake? It's time to get up."

"Nearly there." Nokama flashed her father a smile and sat up. Lesovikk smiled back, looking tired as always, but obviously didn't notice that she had been crying.

"Alright. Just make sure you don't miss the bus, alright? I have to get going as soon as I've woken your brother up. Have a good day."

She flashed another smile as he stalked off towards Onewa's room and quickly got up, exchanging her night clothes for her school uniform.

X x X

Thank whatever gods were up there for caffeine. Coffee was gross, but she still drank it anyway, for nothing else other than the energy boost it gave, which she desperately needed. Disgusting stuff, though. Way too bitter. She preferred sweet things; it was somewhat of a weakness for her.

It was official. Natay Contrell hated coffee, and would have petitioned to make the stuff illegal if it weren't for the fact that she had precalculus first period. Glaring at the remainder in the cheap Styrofoam cup, she decided she'd had enough and chucked it, cap and all, into the garbage can.

A flash of green caught her eye, and she grimaced. Here came trouble if she'd ever seen it. Zaktan and his cousin Matau. One eyebrow raised at the large bruise on the younger boy's face. It practically covered his entire right cheek. Looked pretty recent too. She scowled as Zaktan grabbed his younger cousin and shoved him away into the wall with an admonishment of, "Don't walk so fucking close to me, douchebag."

Gingerly, trying to control her temper, Natay felt the bandages covering her right hand. The last fight she'd been in, with one of Zaktan's minions, had been what put those there. Not that she wouldn't do it again, of course, but unfortunately, her father was a teacher here. And he'd threatened her quite severely if she were to get in another fight on campus.

Forcing a smile, she walked up to the taller green-haired boy. "Well, Furacão! Gettin' a head start with the day's bullyin', I see!"

Zaktan sneered at her. "Go away, Contrell, or I'll tell your daddy on you." He smirked, making her want to punch him. "I heard he wasn't too pleased with what you did to Hakkan last month at registration, and right in front of Mata Nui no less."

"Suck it," she snarled. "Stop picking on little kids an' maybe I'll stop bothering you. What does your mom say when she sees you pickin' on your cousin, huh?"

He shrugged, one eye on Matau, who was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. "Like she cares. She agrees with me when I tell 'er he needs t'be toughened up a little. Says it's good for 'im."

Natay did not doubt this. Lariska Furacão was fairly well known in town as a very hard and tough lady. If ever anyone had wondered where Zaktan got his mean streak from, they wondered no more upon meeting her. What was worse was that Matau, being an orphan, had to live with them. If it had been just Lariska, perhaps things would be alright, but with Zaktan... "That's still no excuse," she said sternly. "An' what about Siahta Waylin? What'd she do to deserve your dumbassery?"

Zaktan's grin was positively evil. "Just bein' here." He caught the punch she threw at him, and shoved her away as he had done with Matau, then heaved his bag over his shoulder and stalked off in the direction of the cafeteria without another word.

Natay swore angrily, glancing at Matau. The younger boy grinned weakly at her, and she sighed. "That's some bruise." she said.

He shrugged. "Eh, he's done worse. Broke my arm last year."

She winced. "You know that can count as abuse, right?"

Another shrug. "Yeah, but what'll it do? I got nowhere else to go, an' I'm too old t'go to a foster house-home. Plus, Aunt Lariska'd kill me if I got Zaktan thrown in jail."

To that, she had no answer. He gave her another grin, much more cheerful this time, and began to walk to his first period class, a bounce in his step now that his cousin was gone.

Not for the first time, Natay reflected that life could be awfully unfair at times. A perfect example was in her own first class, with that jackass who kept kicking her chair. With an annoyed grimace, she threw her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and began to slowly make her way to Brutaka's classroom.

She was really beginning to wish she hadn't disposed of the coffee so quickly. She could've really used the caffeine right about now.

X x X

"_If I had to,   
I would put myself right beside you   
So let me ask   
Would you like that?   
Would you like that?   
And I don't mind   
If you say this love is the last time   
So now I'll ask   
Do you like that?   
Do you like that?"_

Vakama gave a growl of irritation as one of his headphones was pulled out of his ears, and directed a glare up at Matau, who grinned from behind a bruised face. "That's pretty depressing," the green-haired boy said lightly, referring to the loud music that was still blaring from the ear bud held in one hand.

"YOU'RE depressing," Vakama told him, yanking his ear bud back and twirling it around his finger. He pointed to the bruise on Matau's cheek with his other hand. "What'd he hit you for this time?"

Matau shrugged. "Helping Onewa and Nokama yesterday," he replied. "Soon as we were home, slugged me like a hit-pro." He scowled and winced as he felt it gingerly.

Vakama smirked. "It's amusing how you complain more about Arya hitting you than Zaktan."

At that, Matau visibly shuddered. "Yeah, because Arya's a GIRL." he said defensively. "Girls shouldn't be able to hit that hard. It's not natural."

The redhead snorted. "Tell that to her."

"I don't intend-mean to. What, you think I wanna have a bruise on the left cheek to match the right? No thank you!"

"Speaking of Arya, where's she been?" Vakama asked. "It's boring without her."

Matau gave him a suspicious look. "She was visiting her dad outta town. She should be back in school today." He frowned. "Why?"

Vakama snorted again. "No reason. Just that like I said, it's boring around here without her to sock you every now and again. Don't worry, Matau, your 'secret crush' is safe with me."

Matau spluttered angrily, taking a swipe at him, which he easily blocked. "I don't like Arya, you asshole! Go to hell!"

"Already in it," Vakama muttered. His eyes flashed sideways as someone walked by the classroom he was sitting in. Someone with light blue hair and blue eyes.

Someone that he had found rather an interest in...

"Hey, that's Nokama!" Matau, aka Captain Obvious, said, red eyes following the girl as she walked past the window. He looked at his best friend and grinned. "So, any sparks flying yet, firespitter? She's not too bad-lookin'!"

"Go read your hentai," Vakama said shortly, then settled down deeper in his desk and popped his headphone back in, turning up the volume.

Matau sniffed, doing his best to look offended, and then scrabbled off to his own classroom as the bell began to ring. If he was late one more time, Axxon wasn't likely to forgive him again, especially not after all the tricks he had played on him last year.

Vakama watched him go out of one eye, and then closed it again as Takadox burst into the room, scattering papers all over the place and glaring at any and all who dared to laugh at him, the almighty English teacher of Metru Nui Academy. He reached for his Mp3 player and hit the play button, starting the song off where he'd left it.

"_Try to find out what makes you tick   
As I lie down, sore and sick   
Do you like that?   
Do you like that?   
And I don't mind   
If you say this love is the last time   
Just let me say   
That I like that   
I like that."_

A memory was an interesting thing to lose, indeed. She should have kept a diary.

X x X

Lunch was indeed a blessing, sent from the heavens. Seriously, Artahka himself must have been smiling upon them. Dodging a thrown stapler, courtesy of Pridak Haai, Matau grinned at Vakama and Nokama, both of whom were staring at him incredulously. The history teacher raged from inside his classroom, his angry yells following the three as they went.

"MOTHS! BLEEDING _MOTHS_! Karzahni, what the hell did I do to deserve this?!" As if to emphasize his point, the flock of moths Matau had brought to school in a shoebox and released in his classroom all chose that moment to fly out the door in a steady stream, startling all the students within a thirty foot radius.

Siahta Waylin ducked her head to avoid getting in their way, and trained her gaze on the floor instead. It was better this way. Now no one would notice her, and she wouldn't be bothering the moths--

"Oof!"

But it seems she'd be bothering someone else.

Nuju Atama glared at her, rubbing his aching chest where her head had collided with it, and she quailed, blinking back tears. Perhaps he noticed this, for his glare softened, and he bent to pick up the book she'd dropped upon running into him, giving her time to compose herself. "Stop running into people." he told her, handing her book back and fixing his glasses at the same time. "It's rude."

"O...OK." she whispered, not looking at him. He studied her for another minute, then began to walk down the hall, towards the main doors and to the cafeteria.

As he went, Siahta saw the boy called Matau Alto grab his arm and sing out in a loud voice, "Hey, Whenua's friend! Lovely weather we're having, eh?"

Nuju's reply was lost to her, as the chatter in the hall had picked up again now that the moths had mostly evacuated the building (although a fair thirty or so were still flapping around Pridak's classroom, to the history teacher's chagrin). For a split second, she felt a small flash of anger. What had she done to deserve such coldness from him? Nothing, that's what!

Then she sighed. She couldn't control what happened, or what he did, so there was no point in worrying over it, was there?

X x X

Nokama could only stare in wonder at her older brother as he came from the lunch line to sit with them at the same table as the day before. Whereas the bruise on his cheek could not compare to the one dominating the right side of Matau's face, it was certainly very impressive, and she let him know that right away.

"Onewa! What happened to you?!" she cried, poking it frantically. He swatted her hand away, looking annoyed.

"I got decked by that bitch from first period, what else?" He glared at Matau, who was snickering. "And not only that, but this other chick stole my spot in the line, and then punched me in the gut when I told her to get the fuck out!" He plopped down with his lunch and rubbed both gut and cheek, a sour expression on his face. "I hate girls."

"You know, I THOUGHT you looked like you might be gay," a voice behind him said dryly, and he shot up, glaring at the girl who had just sat down next to Matau. She flashed a grin at the rest. "Hey there!"

"ARYA!" Matau cried, flinging his arms around the girl. "You're alive! You didn't die!"

She snorted and pushed him off, although her eyes were bright with amusement. "Course not. I haven't beaten your ass enough yet." She smiled at Nokama, who smiled back, feeling slightly reassured. "Hey there! I'm Arya Meris. Me an' Matau have been neighbors since we were in diapers. What's your name?"

"Nokama Kendrix." Nokama held her hand out to shake. "And that's my brother, Onewa."

"Kinda temperamental, isn't he?" Arya commented dryly. "So, you're new here, right? Sucks to be you. Most of us have been in the same school since kinder."

Onewa ignored her, pointedly focusing on the slice of pizza he'd bought from the cafeteria. His eyes fixed on a blonde-haired girl with orange eyes, weaving in and out of the crowd, a heavy backpack hanging off one shoulder. Natay Contrell had one hell of a left hook, that was for sure. Well, they would see how much her left hook counted for when he beat her in grades! Lame, yes, but hey it was something, right? Not to mention her father was a teacher here, so it would make his revenge even sweeter that the daughter of a teacher was beaten by a supposed jock.

Although, could racing be considered a jock sport...? No matter.

After finishing his pizza, he leaned back and kept one eye on Natay and the other on his sister, who was chatting animatedly to Arya. He couldn't help but notice that he wasn't the only one watching her.

So was Vakama, and he wasn't making any effort to disguise this. In fact, the redhead turned and saw Onewa frowning at him, and then gave a slight smirk before turning back to continue staring.

The same flash of recognition that his sister had felt passed through him as those yellow eyes locked onto his own. He winced as the scar on his right shoulder began to hurt suddenly, like a knife being plunged into it, and grabbed it, grimacing. He noticed Arya glance at him, and forced a smile until she looked away and continued her conversation with Nokama.

_There's something up with that kid,_ he thought, _and I'm gonna find out what._

In ten years, that scar had never bothered him, and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten it, but he had a strange feeling that he was going to be finding out fairly soon.

X x X

Nokama sighed with relief as the bell rang and her last period teacher, a wiry, almost electrically charged man with bright green hair, dashed about the room, throwing scripts at the students. Deftly, she caught the one aimed at her and thanked the teacher, who merely continued to run around, yelling instructions.

"Don't forget to have at least the first half of those memorized by next Friday!" he shouted over the din. "You'll regret if you don't!"

"He needs to lay off the caffeine," she muttered as she picked up her backpack and headed out.

"My sentiments exactly." Arya grinned, catching up to her. Nokama glanced at the other girl. "Then again, Ehlek's never been too good with sleeping, so he's gotta make up for it somehow, right?"

"I suppose," she mused, "but drinking that much can't be good for him. Did you see all the soda cans on his desk?"

Arya snorted. "Wait'll exam week comes. You think he drinks a lotta soda an' coffee now, just wait. This is nothing."

Nokama half shuddered at the thought. "No thanks. I just might switch out."

"You'll regret if you do," Arya told her. "Everyone wants to get in Ehlek's class; I'm kinda surprised you did, this being your first year and all. Yeah he's a little - OK, REALLY screwy, but there's never a dull moment in there. He has a million and one improv games, and you get to go to all these concerts and plays and stuff, not to mention getting to audition first for the school plays."

They began to walk out of the now almost completely deserted campus. It had been decided, after much debate, that Nokama and Arya would walk home together, and Onewa and Vakama would take the bus again. Matau, of course, was stuck catching a ride home with Zaktan, who wasn't about to let anyone else in his car. And as a bus pass was needed to ride the buses, Arya was mostly stuck walking home. But hey, it was good exercise, right?

"Damn, I hate how crowded the streets can get at this time-a day," Arya muttered, crossing the street with Nokama hurriedly in tow. "I swear, they need to put more freaking crossing guards here. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've almost been run over."

Nokama was beginning to have doubts about the school and the town in general.

"And sure, it's nearly happened once, when I was with Matau, but that was just Zaktan being a douchebag." She scowled, remembering. "Trust me, I thought I had it bad until I met Matau's family. They're so fucked up you wouldn't believe."

"I've met Zaktan," Nokama said quietly, wondering where this was going. "He's certainly not the...nicest...person in the world."

"There's the understatement of the year! I don't know why Matau doesn't just call services on that asshole. I guess his aunt's OK, but she doesn't give a rat's ass what Zaktan does to him, as long as he doesn't kill him. And he can't just go back to his parents' house because, well, they're not exactly around anymore, if you get my drift."

"What happened to them?"

She shrugged. "Car crash when he was a baby. Since there was no one else, they just threw him over with Lariska and Zaktan."

"What about Vakama?" Nokama asked before the tirade could restart from the beginning. "What's his family like?"

Arya looked thoughtful. "Well, I'm not too sure myself, actually. I've only seen his mom once, and that was just a glimpse, when he had to leave school early and she came to pick him up. I dunno if he's got a dad or not; Vak never talks about it. Hell, only reason I know he even has a mom is because, like I said, I saw her that one time." She shrugged again. "As for me, I'm kinda in the same boat as Matau's in, 'cept my dad's in jail and I don't know where the hell my mom is. And my aunt an' uncle happen to be good people. Unlike Lariska and Zaktan."

Nokama prepared to head the tirade off again, but found, to her relief, that she didn't have to, as Arya decided to ask about her this time. "So, what about you? Any angsty life stories you wanna share with me?"

The blue-haired girl shrugged. "Not really. I've got a pretty normal life. Dad keeps moving us around, but he says he thinks he's finally found a place to stay for more than a couple weeks, which hopefully will translate to 'until we're in college'. As for our mom..." She frowned. "She got sick and died when I was five. Ever since then, it's been just me and Onewa and Dad. Oh yeah, and Wheeljack, my Kikanalo." She smiled even as something inside of her stirred uneasily. Why did she feel like what she'd said about her mother wasn't true?

They had turned into a cul-de-sac about a mile or so away from the school, fairly run down, but still charming enough, when Arya grabbed her arm.

"Holy shit, what the hell is that?"

Nokama peered at it, and then gasped. A doll, but unlike any doll she'd ever seen before. An open gaping mouth, dripping with red paint. Ripped and torn and tattered clothes, hair seemingly made of straw, although painted inexpertly...orange? Auburn? It was impossible to tell. But what really gripped the two girls was the knife that the doll was holding. At least nine inches long, dripping with more of the red paint, it was held loosely in the doll's hand, resting in its lap. Sickly yellow eyes peered eerily at them out of the ruined face.

Arya's voice shook noticeably as she pointed at it. "Shit...that thing's sitting right on my fucking porch!" And indeed it was. She let go of Nokama's arm as she raced over to it, followed closely by her friend and peered at it with a worried frown. "Who the hell'd DO this?!"

Nokama didn't answer. She had noticed the thing clamped between the doll's teeth - the envelope too had been splashed with the red paint spilling from the mouth. Carefully, she extracted it and opened it. Her eyes widened as she took in what was written on it.

_A memory is a terrible thing to lose._

She gasped convulsively. Strange images, things she'd never seen before, ran across her mind's eye, faster than she could register, but burning themselves in nonetheless.

_The knife..._

_The blood..._

_The screams of a terrified child..._

_The bright yellow eyes..._

Arya read it too, and then looked at her. "What the hell?" Her voice immediately changed. "Hey, you OK? Nokama? Shit! Karzahni, Nokama!"

Overcome, Nokama had just fainted. Arya glanced out at the street, then back at her friend, biting her lip nervously. What the hell was this all about? Then, slinging Nokama's arm over her shoulders, she began to drag her inside. Once the blue-haired girl was reasonably comfortable on the couch, she ran back outside to get rid of the doll before her aunt and uncle returned home and saw it, a wet rag in one hand to take care of the paint stains on the porch, but instead found nothing.

Nothing except for the red paint spill she'd meant to clean up and another white envelope, this time not stained with paint. She picked it up and opened it, frowning as she read the message.

_A memory is a terrible thing to lose, indeed._

X x X

_Although the science of repressed memory is limited, studies suggest that memories of trauma that are forgotten and later recalled have a similar accuracy rate as trauma memories that had not been forgotten. It has been speculated that repression may be one method used by individuals to cope with traumatic memories, by pushing them out of awareness (perhaps as an adaptation via psychogenic amnesia) to allow a child to maintain attachment to a person on whom they are dependent for survival. Researchers have proposed that repression can operate on a social level as well._

X x X

**AN: I've decided for the sake of the story that a Kikanalo would be their near-equivalent of a horse. And Nokama's Kikanalo's name is Wheeljack. I have the Lhikan and Kikanalo LEGO set, and the name of that Kikanalo set is Wheeljack, so I decided to reuse the name. Obviously it's named after my favorite **_**Transformers **_**character XD AND I have a FISH named Wheeljack...I'm not a fangirl, I promise! Anyway, some backstory for you all. As well as some action starting up. Now that that's begun, this'll be a helluva lot easier to write. Yes, Lariska is Zaktan's mom and Matau's aunt, because she's sadistic and awesome and yeah.**

**Those of you asking how come Onewa doesn't remember how he got his scar, listen to me here: remember, he repressed the memory (that was kind an oxymoron..."Remember, you have repressed memories!" -shot-), which is a natural thing to do. Nokama did the same thing, after all. Just to clear that up.**

**By the way, some of the last names in there have meanings. "Haai" is Dutch for "shark", hence the reason it's Pridak's last name. "****Furacão" is Portuguese for "hurricane", and is Zaktan's last name, as I felt someone as destructive as he is would benefit from having such a dangerous force of nature as his last name. And "atama" is Japanese for "brainy", which is why it suits Nuju so well. Lol.**

**Review, please!**


	4. To turn your tears to roses

**First off, I apologize for this chapter being so late. However, I've been pretty busy lately. But I am hoping to get back on track, as I've been writing not only for this, but the other multichapter fics that I need to get done, so hopefully I can have those posted up within the next few days as well.**

**Disclaimer: Anyone you don't recognize as canon most likely belongs to me. All canon characters belong to LEGO Enterprises. Siahta belongs to **_**Sylla Shadowfrost**_**. Arya belongs to **_**Arya-Metru**_**. The definitions at the beginning and end of each chapter are taken from Wikipedia and my old psychology notes and lectures.**

**Summary: AU. Years ago, Nokama witnessed her mother's violent death at the hands of a stranger. Now, ten years later, it seems the killer has come back to finish the job. Vakama/Nokama.**

**Whispers In The Dark  
By: Saya Moonshadow**

"_Trauma is the cause of nearly all major psychological problems. They're nearly endless...dissociative identity disorder (also known as multiple personality disorder), schizophrenia, various phobias, repressed memories...tell me, Ice Princess, has there been a moment in your life that you would do anything not to remember?"  
--My eleventh grade psychology teacher during a lecture_

X x X

_It had been a long time since he'd seen a big city. Places like Voya Nui and Mata Nui, though pleasant, did nothing to satisfy his need to be around people. He had to be around people. Being alone frustrated and angered him, to the point of near hysteria. It was part of the reason that once he made a friend, he never let them go. If they wanted to leave him, for whatever reason, they paid for it. Simple as that._

_He loved and loathed the feeling of their blood on his fingers. Loved it for its warm, silky smoothness. Loathed it for what it was. Blood. The blood of someone who would not have died if it hadn't been for their own stupidity._

_Although some people truly did deserve to die. And some people deserved worse than death._

_His favorite murder was one he'd committed ten years ago. Unfortunately, he had not been around to see the press's reaction to it, as he had had to leave town immediately after committing it. One stewardess on the plane had seen flecks of red on his clothes and become suspicious. She had seen the news reports that were just beginning to come, of the family that had just been devastated by its sudden loss._

_She was too nosy. Asked too many questions. When the plane got to its next destination, he followed her to the seedy little bar she'd headed to after her shift as stewardess ended._

_She never made it to the bar that night._

_He didn't know where her carcass was now. Probably still rotting in the alleyway he'd tossed it into once he was finished with her. He'd had to be careful, however. Hadn't mutilated her like he'd done to that other woman. You never knew, some smart Vahki might make the connection and start an investigation. He'd merely strangled her with her belt. Not nearly so satisfying as his usual method, but it couldn't be helped. As another precaution, he'd made sure to take her wallet with him, to make it seem like a simple case of mugging. Just another thug who'd killed to get money for whatever addiction they were suffering from._

_He suffered from an addiction, alright, but money had no part in it._

_He still remembered the little girl who'd seen him kill his other victim. She was a tiny little thing, with big blue eyes set in a face that was surprisingly pretty for such a small child. Her eyes had been glazed over with shock and terror, but he relished that. Just thinking about her, about the young woman she was now, gave him a shiver of desire. What would it be like to have HER beneath him, screaming and crying, instead of the weak thing he'd once thought himself quite in love with? He knew she would recognize him, even if she'd repressed their meeting. Repressed memories never stayed repressed, after all. It only took one small thing, one small coincidence, to bring them back to the surface. What better than the one to have caused the memory to make it resurface?_

_Today, she'd been beautiful as she hit the ground in a dead faint. No, make that more than beautiful - she'd been lovely, exquisite. Just as her mother had been, but even more so, if that were possible. The other girl he had no interest in. If she tried to get in the way, he would kill her too, just as he was planning to do to the lovely blue-haired girl and the shy little mouse who went to her school once he was finished with them._

_Or...perhaps the violet-eyed girl he would relish as well. It amused him to know that these three girls would pay for sins that were never theirs, but he didn't care. The sins weren't completely atoned for, and someone had to pay the price. Why not the daughters of the ones who had done the sinning? The violet-eyed girl would be a bonus, almost like a congratulatory sip of wine after his mission was complete._

_It was perfect._

_There was just one more thing standing in his way._

_Actually, four things were standing in his way. If they attempted to stop him, they too would face the consequences of their actions, and be removed from the picture before they could endanger his plans._

X x X

"Zaktan, eat your dinner, don't throw it." Lariska Furacão said, sounding bored. Her son sneered, but desisted from flicking pieces of his mashed potato at his younger cousin. Matau was silent, quietly eating his food without a sound. "So Matau," she continued, "how was school?"

He looked up. "It was OK," he shrugged, then brightened up as he remembered. "Oh yeah, and Arya's back!"

Zaktan snorted. "That scrawny whore? You sure know how to pick 'em, loser."

Matau bristled angrily at his cousin. "She's not a whore!" he snapped. "And she's not scrawny either! You're just mad cos you can't keep a girl for more than three days!"

Zaktan stood up, clutching his fork hard enough that his knuckles were rapidly turning white, but a sharp clap from his mother made him take his seat again instantly. However, he returned her glare calmly, his face an uninterested mask.

"I won't have discord at the table." Lariska said, her voice low and deadly-sounding. "When you are both finished, you can deal with your problems. But anymore bickering in here, and you'll both regret it."

Matau huffed and went back to eating his food, although worried about what his rather violent cousin would do to him once dinner was over. He really couldn't wait for next year. Zaktan would be in college then, and he wouldn't have to put up with him anymore!

"Matau, it's your turn to wash the dishes," Lariska said as she got up from the table. She then looked at her son. "And you need to start on your homework, Zaktan Furacão. If I get one more phone call from Teridax about your grades--"

"I'll regret it," he finished for her. "I know, Mother."

"Er, Aunt Lariska?" She turned to look at her younger charge. "What?"

He looked nervous. "Er...can I go see Arya? Once I'm done with the dish-plates, I mean. I already did my homework and stuff, so...?"

"Be back by nine," she said shortly, and then looked at Zaktan again. "Well, get!" she snapped. "I'm sick of having to tell you everything twice!"

He merely grimaced and began to amble to his room, slamming the door once he was there. Lariska blew air out of her nostrils exasperatedly, then turned a slight smile on her nephew. "As I said, be back by nine, and if you think you're going to be late, then call. Am I clear?"

"Yup." Matau said, feeling slightly more cheerful now. He turned to the dishes with a will, knowing the sooner he finished, the more time he'd have to spend with his best friend.

Lariska sighed again and plonked back down at the kitchen table with the newspaper. She raised a brow at one of the headlines. "Listen to this, Matty - someone over in Voya Nui's been murdered." Her nephew looked over his shoulder at her, and she continued reading. "Pretty violently, too...says here that the victim was in at least seven pieces."

Matau shuddered. He'd had a hard time dissecting a rat in ninth grade biology (actually, it had been Vakama who did the actual dissecting, he, Matau, had just written everything down); just THINKING about PEOPLE being torn apart was hard for him to stomach. He gave a nervous laugh. "Let's hope nothing like that happens here, eh, Auntie?"

"Hn," She grunted. "Finish those dishes so you can go see your friend."

"Yes ma'am." He returned to the dishes with a will.

X x X

Vakama looked down at the prone form lying on the couch of one of his best friends and blinked. Casually, he flicked a strand of blue hair away from her face, running his thumb along her cheek as he did so. Her skin was soft, practically unmarked. Flawless. Unconsciously licking his lips, he traced the outline of hers.

"Having fun?"

He looked up at Arya, who was standing in the doorway with a smirk on her face. He sneered at her and backed away from Nokama, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and slouching moodily. Rolling her eyes, Arya shoved him out of her way and began sponging Nokama's forehead with a damp cloth. "It's kinda weird, isn't it?" she asked as she did so. "Fainting just cuz of a doll, I mean."

Vakama shrugged. "Sometimes shit like that happens. Maybe she had a bad experience as a kid or something."

"Maybe..." Arya frowned down at the other girl's face. "Still, even if something DID happen or whatever, that's a pretty strong reaction. 'Specially since it's just a doll."

"Who asked you?" Vakama snorted, looking surly again. He glanced at Nokama again and then focused his intense yellow gaze on Arya. Something clicked in her mind at that.

"Y'know, Vak, that thing had yellow eyes, just like you. Any idea what that was about?"

She didn't expect him to look angry, but look angry he did. When he spoke, his voice was practically a hiss. "How the fuck should I know why some psycho put yellow eyes on that shitting doll? Are you accusing me of something?"

"No, not at all!" She backed up, holding her hands up in an expression of surrender. "It was just a thought! No need to get all psycho on me."

He sniffed in a passable imitation of Nuju, and she giggled and went back to sponging Nokama's forehead. She had to admit that she was secretly relieved. Vakama was rarely angry, but when he was, it was always a scary thing to see. So far, she'd managed to never tick him off TOO badly, and she intended to keep it that way.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Arya looked up in annoyance as Matau flung the door open and pranced in. "Why bother ringing the bell if you're just gonna waltz right in anyway?" she asked waspishly.

Matau shrugged. "At least I'm giving some semblance of politeness, right?"

She snorted. "Sure. Whatever you say, Matau."

X x X

"_I hear a voice say, 'Don't be so blind,'   
It's telling me all these things   
That you would probably hide   
Am I your one and only desire?   
Am I the reason you breathe?   
Or am I the reason you cry?"_

"Wow, that's not emo at ALL, Vakama!"

"Hn. At least I don't have the Spice Girls on my playlist."

"I do not have the Spice Girls on my playlist!"

"I have evidence that you do."

"And just who gave you this evidence?"

"Matau, duh."

The sound of something cracking rather ominously. "Matau, sweetie, before you leave, I'd like to have a word with you."

Matau chuckled nervously. "Er, I have a curfew that I gotta meet."

The second voice broke into the conversation again. "If you two are done being stupid, then you'll notice she's waking up because of how loud you're being. Shut the hell up."

"Well excuse ME, Princess!" Matau huffed.

"You're not excused," Arya hissed, then there was a yelp and the sound of something being dragged out of the room. "We're gonna go get something from the kitchen, k, Vak?" she called over her shoulder. "Watch over Nokama for a bit, and try not to do anything naughty, yeah?"

"Fuck off," he called after her, before fixing his gaze on Nokama's face.

Her eyes opened. They were slightly unfocused, and she closed them again in a grimace of pain, sitting up and clutching her head with a moan.

"Easy!" He was suddenly beside her, gripping her arm with a hand that was both large and rough. As she looked down at it, she saw something strange: a long slashing scar, straight across the palm as he released her. Perhaps he noticed her looking, as a second later, his hand was back in his jacket pocket.

"What happened...?" she asked, still feeling a little groggy.

The familiar smirk was back. "You fainted, Arya tells me."

"I _fainted_?" She was incredulous.

"No shit, why would I bother lying about that?" And there was the sarcasm. "You're in her house right now, and apparently she's already called your dad to let 'im know you're not dead or anything, so relax. No need to go getting all uppity on everything."

"You're one to talk." She sat upright and looked around her. So this was Arya's house. Not too bad. A bit undecorated, but still a nice place. There were pictures on the walls, of Arya and two people she realized must be the aunt and uncle she had spoken of before.

"So, going to faint again?" Vakama sounded bored. His back was to her, she noticed with a slight scowl. "If so, lemme call Arya in first. And don't expect me to catch you. You're on the couch, and it's soft enough. And it'll be your own fault if you fall off it."

Nokama's scowl grew darker as she listened to him. Forget anything good she had thought about him thus far! "Well, aren't we hospitable!" she snapped. "For your information, that's the first time I've ever fainted in my life, so there!" She crossed her arms with a loud "hmph".

"Hospitable? Please. Hospitality barely exists around here." Vakama told her, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, something she noticed.

"Where'd you get that scar on your hand?" she asked curiously.

His eyes suddenly narrowed. "That's none of your business."

Was it just her, or did the temperature just go up a couple degrees?

"Well sorry for asking a simple question," she huffed, and got up, a little woozily at first. Carefully, she stretched and yawned, then looked at the clock. "I better be going home. I'm sure my dad and Onewa must be worried about me by now..."

"Leaving? So soon?" Arya waltzed back out of the kitchen as Matau fell through the door behind her, a large lump on his forehead from where she'd obviously smacked him with a slightly heavy object. "Alright then...want my uncle to drive you home? It's getting kinda dark..."

"No, I'm fine, but thanks," Nokama smiled. "Thanks for helping me, by the way."

"No problem." Arya grabbed Matau and dragged him upright, all the while muttering about stupid boys and their stupid blabbering mouths. "See you tomorrow then."

"See you."

And then she was gone, the door closing quietly behind her.

A short silence followed, broken by Arya's snort. Vakama turned and glared at her, and she threw her hands up again in surrender. He snorted back at her and sauntered into the kitchen, where he proceeded to devour the better part of the half-finished sandwich lying on a plate on the counter.

"Don't say a word." he said to Arya, who had come up behind him. Although not looking at her, he knew she was smirking.

She turned around, the smirk he knew was there on her face, but even bigger than he had imagined, if that was possible. "Sorry, I have absolutely NO idea what you are talking about, Vakama!"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb, no matter how good you are at it."

"Who's playing dumb?" Matau asked, slightly more oriented then he had been after getting smacked. "She doesn't have to PLAY dumb, dude - she IS dumb, so there's no acting required!"

He promptly ducked as she threw the plate Vakama's sandwich had been on at him.

X x X

Overall, it had been a terrible day for one Natay Cantrell. She was tired, she had one heck of a headache, and to top it all off, the lights in the room she was in had just gone out. Aggravatedly, she threw the pencil she had been doing her homework with at them, and it bounced off the nearest one, but overall had no real effect.

She groaned and pushed her chair back, rubbing her temples as she did so. Why did her father have to take his work so seriously? It was almost nine o' clock, and they were still at school because her stupid father was still at his desk, doing his stupid paperwork and forgetting about the stupid time, and he wouldn't let her walk home by herself. He had to drive her, he said.

Natay rolled her eyes. She understood the concern, but Dume Cantrell had to learn that his daughter was not incapable of taking care of herself. She was a strong and tough individual, dammit! ...who had the worst headache in the history of God, but that wasn't the point.

At least it was cold. If there was one thing Natay loved, it was cold weather, although the heat didn't exactly bother her either. But she definitely preferred it when it was cold out, and it was now. She frowned out the window of the classroom, trying to adjust her eyes to the now-dark atmosphere. Was it just her, or was something moving around out there?

She immediately dismissed that thought. Who would bother stalking around a high school after dark? No one sane, she decided.

"Ouch!" Natay bent quickly and examined the cut on her leg, made from the sharp bit sticking out of the desk she was sitting at. What kind of moron had done THAT, she wondered as she grimaced. The cut wasn't deep, but it was bleeding. Grimacing harder, she straightened up and looked around for something to put on it.

She jumped suddenly, eyes wide and staring at the window. She HAD just seen something, hadn't she? Not daring to move or blink, she continued to stare at the window, breathing hard. What the hell was going on here? Inside, she scolded herself for getting so worked up, but she couldn't shake the jumpiness dispersing through her whole body.

"Pa?" she called to the adjoining classroom where her father was.

"What?" he called back. He sounded tired, she thought slightly guiltily, but damn it all, he was her father and he was supposed to protect her from these kind of things!

"Er, can we like, get going sometime soon? I thought I saw something outside, and..."

"Oh? And what was this something you thought you saw?" Dume Cantrell appeared in the doorway, and frowned. "And why do you have the lights off?"

Natay rolled her eyes and shoved some of her hair out of her face. "The lights went out on me, don't blame ME for this place's crappy electricity systems. And to answer your other question, I dunno. I just thought I saw someone movin' around out there."

Dume's frown grew bigger. "Why would someone bother coming here this late, Natareda? It's..." He looked at his watch and gave a start. "...after nine. Goodness, we'd better get going. Come on, let's get home and then you need to get some rest. You're probably just seeing things. Being tired does that to you."

"Don't pull that psychology crap on me." She rolled her eyes again, but shoved everything into her backpack and followed him. "It ain't gonna work, Pa. You always, ALWAYS try it, so why keep tryin' if it doesn't work?"

"Three thousandth time's the charm, my dear."

Natay stopped suddenly, a chill going down her spine, and spun around. She could have sworn she had seen a pair of eyes staring at her from outside the window, but quickly shook off the feeling of being watched and hurried after her father, going quicker than ever before.

"Hey Pa, remember that old story of the Riddle Box that you used to tell me about when I was younger?"

Dume raised a brow at her. "Yes, of course. Why?"

She shrugged. She had no idea why it had come back to her all of a sudden, but it just had. "Dunno. Guess my little...scare back there just made me think about it just now."

He frowned. "The Riddle Box was a legend of fate, Natareda. Nothing to really get worked up about, because like I've always told you, you pick and choose your own fate. In a way, the Riddle Box de-symbolized my old saying. Do you remember what it did?"

She looked at her feet as they continued to walk, by now in the parking lot, the family car a mere thirty feet away. "When someone died, they'd go to tha waiting room, where they had ta wait to turn the crank of the Riddle Box. An' whatever came outta the Riddle Box determined where they'd go after that. If the angel came out, then you got to go to Artahka. But if the demon came out, then..."

"Then you'd go down to Karzahni." He nodded, pleased she had remembered it all. "And if neither came out...?"

"Then you were stuck." she said. "You went nowhere. You were just stuck as a ghost until you faded away..." She shuddered slightly. "And the one who ran the Riddle Box would say when you arrived, 'Step right up and seal your fate'. I think it'd prolly be better to go ta Karzahni than to just fade away, huh Pa? I mean, you'd be watching yourself just...just DIE a second time, only this time it'd be slow an' you couldn't do a thing about it..."

"It's just a story, Natareda," Dume interrupted her firmly. "Made only to show that nothing is certain. However, I raised you to believe that your destiny is what you make it. Nothing is truly left to fate."

She didn't answer, but instead glanced behind her again, nervously.

She just couldn't shake the feeling that something was _watching_ her...

X x X

_And something was, indeed, watching her. The eyes trained themselves on her form and slid down, from the messy ponytail to the knees that her school uniform's skirt was too short to cover to the still slightly bleeding cut on her calf. They saw the way her head glanced nervously from side to side, such a change from the confident, bored, and annoyed attitude she'd had in the classroom before the lights had gone out._

_A pair of scissors were clenched in the stranger's hand, and dangling from his other hand were a few strands of the wire he had cut. Confidence in a woman was something he admired and desired...because then he could break that confidence, and watch as the light in her eyes left and she became cold and weak. And then, of course, she would have to be disposed of._

_It was really too bad that the old man - obviously her father - had been there. He had been about to continue his game, to see just how nervous he could make her before she got scared enough to run...and then he'd be waiting for her outside when she opened the door and realized that her initial fears were correct - she was in no way alone._

_For a moment, he was tempted to simply go and eliminate the old man and take the girl as he had originally planned, but decided against it. The struggle with the father would allow the daughter time to run and escape, and then things would only go downhill from there._

_A distraction from his plan was needed, though. He knew it. The obsession had done nothing but build steadily for ten years, and a break was desperately in order. But that break was ruined, by this stupid girl and her stupid father._

_Carefully, he pulled the sharp piece of the desk that had cut her leg on the desk out of his pocket and licked it. To his pleasure, the blood had not fully dried yet, and he could taste it quite easily. Metallic. And at the same time, sweet. He liked the way her blood tasted, but nowhere near as much as he had liked the way that precious little girl's mother's blood had tasted...now that was good..._

_He shook himself, smiling lightly. Another addition to his plans? This blonde haired spitfire along with the purple-eyed girl? Was that one or two too many? He'd have to give this more thought. After all, too many at one time could be bad. And he knew he'd want them all at once. Taking them one at a time was no fun at all; he'd done that so many times before and it had gotten boring._

_The only protector this one seemed to have was her father, so naturally she would be easy prey. No boyfriend or any other close family members. And although her body seemed to be strong, he knew he was stronger. She was a woman, after all - and he was much stronger than any woman._

_Perhaps...but only time would tell._

_His thoughts drifted again to the lovely little blue-haired girl, and his fingers clenched around the scissors. The need to have her was strong...much stronger than any other feeling he'd ever had. Just thinking about what he wanted to do to her made his breath come out in ragged gasps. It was true that she was still a small girl, nowhere near done growing, but still he wanted her. The sooner he had her, the better._

_But first...first, he'd have to play around with her. See how long it took her to snap. Just how far could he push her before he deemed it the right time to finish the game? She would probably be his best opponent yet, actually..._

_It was something he intended to find out, and with that, he set off, leaving a few drops of Natay Cantrell's blood on the parking lot ground._

_Even if she ran, he would find her._

X x X

It was cold out. Very, very cold for a September night, Nokama thought, and shivered as she rubbed her arms. She was starting to regret rejecting Arya's offer of a ride home, even though they only lived a few streets away from each other. And she was also regretting not having a jacket or anything. After all, it was cold, and the uniform shirt she had on was short-sleeved. At least her backpack made friction on her back as she walked and provided SOME sort of warmth...

Finally, she turned onto her street and she began to hurry as she saw her house come into view from the streetlamps' light. A few more minutes, and she would be home!

Once she reached her porch, she stopped and looked out across her lawn. That was where, last night, Vakama had stood and pointed at her...

An odd feeling began to build in her stomach as she remembered that. Vakama was a good-looking person, there was no doubt about that, but he was so cynical, it was hard to believe he had been so caring earlier when she'd woken up from her faint. Of course, it had taken him less than a minute to revert back to his old self, but...

And what about that scar on the palm of his hand? That was no ordinary scar, she knew. Couldn't be. It looked almost like he'd been slashed or something. Maybe he'd had an accident as a kid? Yeah, that was probably it...he had probably picked up a sharp knife or something when he was little and cut himself on it...

It seemed the best scenario, anyway. After all, Onewa had an odd scar that neither of them remembered him getting, and he didn't care about it. After all, chicks dug the war wounds, he would tell her as she rolled her eyes. Personally, she would like to know where he'd gotten it, but their father wouldn't tell them either. Some things were better left alone, he told them whenever they asked.

Nokama frowned, but decided to let it go, yet again. Her father was right. Obviously if he wouldn't tell them, it was best left unsaid. He only wanted to spare them from pain, after all.

Realizing that she'd spent a good five minutes staring at the grass, she hurriedly pulled out her key and opened the door, making sure to lock it behind her. She walked into the kitchen, greeting her father and Onewa, both of whom immediately stood up and began talking at once, Lesovikk asking if she was alright and Onewa demanding to know where she'd been.

She sighed. This was going to take a while, from the look on her brother's face.

An hour and a half later, in which Onewa had yelled himself hoarse about responsibility and calling when you're going to be late and Lesovikk had forced her to sit down and eat something, she was back in her own room and in her nightgown, reflecting over that day's events. Invariably, everything kept going back to the feel of Vakama's hand on her arm, and the concerned look in those yellow eyes as he had told her to take it easy.

Nokama took the time to realize that she was slightly attracted to him, but dismissed it as anything important. It was just that - a little attraction, probably because of his cynical, almost mysterious demeanor. He was the kind of person you just HAD to know more about. Everything Arya had told her only added to the mystery, and the investigator in Nokama had immediately found a need to solve it.

She smiled. Her dream job was to be a teacher, to teach others things that she knew, but in order to do so, she had to know things. Learning was one of her great joys in life, and she loved nothing more than to do so. Especially when it was such an intriguing mystery.

His hands were warmer than she'd thought they'd be. With his personality, she had been sure his body temperature would be about as warm as the refrigerator in the kitchen. In other words, not very warm at all. Instead, he undermined her initial thoughts by being warm.

His warm hands...and his hair like fire...and his eyes like the sun...

She frowned, remembering how familiar those eyes had seemed to her. Yellow eyes were not that common, and she hadn't personally met anyone with yellow eyes, but...maybe she'd seen someone in the street or something where they used to live with yellow eyes? Maybe that was it...somehow, she doubted it, but it was still a possibility.

_This is stupid,_ she thought tiredly. _Why am I even thinking about him at all? There's no reason for me to...ugh, I should get to sleep..._

Sleep was probably the best idea right now. Climbing into bed, Nokama switched out the lights and fell asleep almost instantly. But instead of the dreamless sleep she'd been hoping for, her dreams were full of warm, warm hands holding her down, and a pair of yellow eyes staring into hers and engulfing her until she knew of nothing else.

X x X

_Psychological trauma is a type of damage to the psyche that occurs as a result of a traumatic event. When that trauma leads to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, damage may involve physical changes inside the brain and to brain chemistry, both of which affect the person's ability to cope with stress._

X x X

**AN: In regards to the quote at the beginning at the chapter, "Ice Princess" was my old psychology teacher's name for me. She had names for everybody, up to and including "Oedipus", "Feo", "Vermilio", "D.J.", "Mojo", and "Ricky Retardo". At least I wasn't "Oedipus' or "Ricky Retardo", I guess...sigh.**

Natay's story about the Riddle Box was obviously inspired by the Insane Clown Posse song of the same name. It's an interesting concept, and while I hate that band, I have to admit that "Riddle Box" makes me think. And that's it, really. Oh yeah, and in this AU, "Vahki" is the term for a police officer. Just to clear that up for anyone who was confused.

**Anyway, please review! It's reviews that REALLY keep me going ;)**


	5. I'll be the one that's gonna hold you

**Recently, I've had to come to terms with the fact that I am rather phobic of being alone in the dark. Kind of weird for me, because I KNOW there's nothing out there that can hurt me, but ugh. How annoying. At least I've got my cat in here with me every night...even if he DOES take over one of the pillows and get black fur all over my bed...**

**Disclaimer: Anyone you don't recognize as canon most likely belongs to me. All canon characters belong to LEGO Enterprises. Siahta belongs to **_**Sylla Shadowfrost**_**. Arya belongs to **_**Arya-Metru**_**. The definitions at the beginning and end of each chapter are taken from Wikipedia and my old psychology notes and lectures.**

**Summary: AU. Years ago, Nokama witnessed her mother's violent death at the hands of a stranger. Now, ten years later, it seems the killer has come back to finish the job. Vakama/Nokama.**

**Whispers In The Dark  
By: Saya Moonshadow**

_The most common cause of trauma these days seems to be sexual abuse, especially when the victim is a child, although other things can be done to instigate said trauma. Physical abuse, if it is particularly cruelly done, can be one, as can verbal abuse, although the latter is rare. Mostly, trauma is caused by something so outside what the victim is used to, they can hardly deal with it. Instances of this include rape by a trusted friend, extreme poverty, witnessing acts of extreme violence, etcetera._

X x X

To be perfectly honest, Mano was bored. Barely anyone needed his skills anymore these days, so why did he bother to keep the business open? Oh right, because of the holidays. Whenever the holidays rolled around, he was flooded in a virtual river of orders. But when there wasn't any special occasion, he was bored practically to tears.

The dolls and puppets he sold were all handcrafted by him, and each came at a fairly good price. Everyone was always impressed when they found out that he had made them himself, without any assistance. To him, it was just a hobby that he could make money off of.

Recently though, one of his best jobs had come back to him, lying on the stairs leading up to his small store. He snorted; obviously the buyer wasn't able to appreciate fine art and was too damn shy or lazy or whatever to wait and return it properly. Oh well, not like it mattered. No refunds.

He took the time to scrutinize the doll for any damage and was pleased to see that, with the exception of the annoying paint stains all over it, it was in near perfect shape. Perhaps if he was able to clean it up enough, he could resell it at Halloween...

Mano had sold that doll exactly ten years ago, almost to the day. He remembered each and every single one of the dolls he had made and sold, even if he didn't remember the customer. He DID remember this one, however. A shady person, who had called over the phone for a special job and a special delivery. The voice, low and husky, was obviously being disguised. Not that Mano cared. If this person was a criminal, then that was their business. He had no part of it. And if the police somehow tracked the criminal through him, then he could get a potentially good reward out of it. Either way, he got paid. It was a win-win situation.

He frowned as the shop bell tinkled, and quickly put the doll down and raced out of the inner part of the shop and to the front counter, ready to greet his latest customer. He was surprised to see that it was a young boy, no older than fifteen in front of him. He suppressed the urge to grimace. Kids usually only had money enough for his lesser jobs. Damn...no real money would be made here.

And anyway, what was a kid doing out so early? The clock had just struck six AM a few minutes ago.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

The kid looked at him with vibrant yellow eyes that made him want to squint. They were bright, like the sun. "Yeah. Did you make a doll about this big, with yellow eyes like mine at some point?"

Mano frowned again. "I've made a lot of dolls about that big with yellow eyes, kid. You'll have to be more specific."

The kid rolled his eyes, but described it more. "My friend said it had red hair and a real twisted grin, kinda like this." He grinned in a very good impression of the doll Mano had just been puzzling over in the back.

"I think I know what you're talking about. Wait a moment, please." He hated saying "please", but it was required to acquire a good reputation with his customers. No one wanted to buy something from a rude bastard, he heard his mother saying in his head.

He returned a moment later with the doll in question and set it down on the counter. "This what you're looking for?"

The boy's eyes had narrowed when the doll was brought out, but he still nodded. "I believe so, yes. It's even got the paint that my friend told me about. Who did you sell it to?"

Mano shrugged. "Dunno. It was one of those weird jobs where the customer wants to be anonymous. I respect that. Guy called me on the phone, requested that very doll, and told me where to drop it off. Left the exact payment in a box there, and I dropped off the doll and left, taking the payment with me. That's it. It's not my business to pry into my customers' affairs."

The boy's frown deepened. "What was this person's phone number?"

"You think I know? I don't keep track of these things. Besides, that was ten years ago, you think I'd keep records of one weird job from that long ago? Look, I can't sit around talking all day, I've got other things that I gotta make. If you're not gonna buy something, then leave."

"Hn..." The boy glanced around the shop, then pointed at a doll with big blue eyes and a happy smile. It was wearing a frilly blue dress, and long hair cascaded down its back. "How much for that one there?"

"Twenty bucks."

"Twenty bucks? For THAT?"

"I happen to personally design and make each and every single item in this store, kid, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult my wares like that. Now, are you still gonna buy it or not?"

The kid took out a wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a few bills. "Yeah, whatever."

Mano smiled as he took the money and leaned over and unhooked the wanted doll from its post. "Here ya go. I'm sure your girlfriend will like it."

"I don't have a girlfriend," the boy snapped, although his cheeks had gone slightly red.

The shopkeeper smiled knowingly. "Ah, I see, so you're trying to woo her with this doll? Nice. No better way to a woman's heart than with something cute and huggable."

The boy grabbed the doll and strode out the door without another word. Behind his counter, Mano snickered. It had been just too incredibly tempting to tease the kid like that, and he couldn't help it. And he deserved it for coming in here and asking stupid questions.

Speaking of coming in here, no one was going to want to do so if there was this creepy-looking thing sitting on the counter when it wasn't the Halloween season. Might start thinking he was creepy too.

Rolling his eyes dramatically, he bundled it up into his arms and took it into the back of the shop, making a mental note to work on getting all that damned paint off of it at the soonest possible opportunity.

X x X

When Nokama awoke that morning, she felt an odd cramp in her arm and discovered to her annoyance that she had obviously slept with the majority of her weight on it. No wonder it was feeling sore. Grumbling about this, she got out of bed and quickly got dressed, hearing Onewa crashing about in his room and getting ready as well.

Her father had obviously already left for work, as two bowls of cereal were set out for them on the table downstairs in the kitchen. She ate ravenously, and collected her book bag and shoes as Onewa raced down the stairs right after her, throwing on his shoes without bothering to eat. She raised a brow at this. "What, no breakfast? That's a first."

"No time." he replied. "Gotta make it to the bus."

"The bus doesn't come for another twenty minutes. You could at least eat SOMETHING. There's still some milk left in there, I think." She frowned. "And anyway, what's so important that you have to rush out like this for?"

Onewa glared at her. "For your information, madam, there's a certain loud mouth in my first period that needs to be taken down a few pegs, and unfortunately I can't do that during class. So I have to get there early so I can chew her out in full good form."

Nokama snorted. "You sure you don't just have a crush?"

"What the hell makes you think THAT?" he asked, looking highly offended. "Seriously. That woman is SCARY. Who in their right mind would fall for HER?"

His sister sighed and rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Onewa."

He grumbled a bit, but contented himself with not talking to her the whole way to the bus stop, though she chattered the whole way, about literally everything that popped into her mind. He didn't realize it (as he had rather perfected his ignoring technique), but she was talking quite a lot more than usual. Nokama was not normally an over-talkative person, and she was talking a lot now.

_Usually when people talk a lot, they're trying to keep something else off of their mind._

She felt a shiver go through her as Vakama spared her a glance, but then he had looked away, and she frowned. Why was he ignoring her all of a sudden? His eyes were slightly narrowed, another bad sign. Maybe it was because of last night, when she had snapped at him...

Lord above, she hated being a teenage girl sometimes. The hormones and over-exaggerated emotions were tough to deal with sometimes.

When the bus finally rolled to a stop outside of the school, she bounded off, pointedly ignoring him, and to her slight disappointment, he made no move to get her attention either, although she swore she saw a smirk on his face as he got off the bus. The sight of it made her blood boil. He knew he was getting to her, and he was enjoying it.

_Bastard._

She was distracted by Onewa shouting, "AHA!" and dashing away, and sighing, she ran after him as he cornered the tall girl with yellow hair in a ponytail sitting at one of the many tables outside of the classrooms. Nokama did not know who this girl was, only that she apparently had a fairly loud voice and a bad temper from what Onewa had told her, but Onewa had a tendency to exaggerate things at times.

"So what was up with getting me detention yesterday?!" he shouted at her, and she rolled her eyes at him, a look of extreme distaste crossing her face. "In case you didn't notice, moron, I got it too," she snapped, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "But don't think I'm about to apologize. I ENJOYED doing it, because you DESERVED it."

"Deserved it?" Onewa sounded incredulous. "You think that just because you're a senior you can get away with punching people--"

"Only if they deserve it." Natay interrupted, "Which you did. And probably still do. Go away. I'm in no mood to deal with idiots right now." She looked at the girl sitting in the seat across from her. "Isn't that right, Siahta? You don't mess with me."

"Please do not bring me into this." Siahta Waylin murmured, and Natay rolled her eyes and got up from her seat, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. She pointed one long finger at Onewa, who glared back at her defiantly. "I don't have to take shit from juniors," she said. "Leave me alone. I mean it."

And with that, she stomped off, her hair swishing behind her.

Onewa stared after her, an incredulous look on his face, before sitting down in a huff. "Bitch." he muttered.

Nokama snickered and sat next to him. "She sure told you."

"Shut up."

She threw her hands up in surrender. "You SURE boys can't have periods, big brother?"

Siahta gave a small laugh at this. "In Bio last year, they taught that boys actually DO have their own 'times of the month'," she smiled. "It's just not as pronounced as girls, and the emotional turmoil is much less. Nor do they, er, _bleed_." She shuffled with her skirt hem as she spoke.

"Lucky boys, then," Nokama laughed. She smiled across at the shy girl, who was looking down at her lap. "So, what put HER in such a bad mood this morning? Besides Onewa, that is?"

Siahta frowned a little. "She said something about a cut on her leg stinging a lot, but that it would go away in time. And that she was tired. But that's it, really..." That was probably the most she had spoken in about a month. This Nokama girl was very easy to talk to. Plus, there was the fact that she and her brother had come running to the rescue a while ago...

The bell rang, and she got up, feeling strangely light. "It was nice speaking with you." she told Nokama, and the blue-haired girl nodded and smiled back. Onewa merely muttered something, but Siahta barely noticed, as she had already begun to walk off, a strange happiness suffusing every piece of her being. Someone had spoken to her kindly and not in a pitying way. It was enough to make her float on air for the rest of the day.

_CRASH._

Perhaps not.

She found that, once again, in her reverie she had managed to walk smack into someone, and that someone was the one person she wanted to walk into the least. Zaktan glowered down at her and gave her shoulder a hard shove, sending her sprawling to the floor. She hit hard, a nice new bruise forming on her forehead where it had hit the wall of the building.

"Ouch..." She clutched it hard, feeling a little blood there as well. It _STUNG_. A lot. What a way to begin the day...

"Watch it, Waylin," he growled, and nudged her warningly with his toe. "Don't want a repeat of a few days ago, do you?"

"...no." Siahta looked down at the floor, her hands now twisted in her skirt hem once more.

"Don't think that Kendrix's gonna come to your rescue again. That was a one-time deal. He felt sorry for you. And seriously, who wouldn't? You're damn pathetic. Even Atama feels sorry for you. Must suck, havin' so many people only wanna be nice to you 'cause they pity you." He gave a grin as her shoulders slumped a little, knowing that once again, he had gotten past the barriers she tried so hard to put up. "Really, Waylin, I don't see why you even bother coming every day. It's just the same shit all over again, isn't it? You get here, everyone feels sorry for you, I beat the shit out of you, more people feel sorry for you, you go home and cry yourself to sleep...and then it repeats the next day. Repetitive person, aren't you?"

She knew what he was saying was true. A lot of people did seem to only be nice because they felt bad for her. But Nokama hadn't seemed to do that...even Natay felt sorry for her (it was so easy to tell when someone did), but Nokama...Nokama didn't. It was puzzling to have someone just talk to her and not look at her pityingly.

She clung to that little shred of good feeling and closed her eyes, picking herself up off the floor. "Th-thank you for your time." she said, taking a deep breath and hearing him laugh a little. "It was...much appreciated."

She flinched visibly when she felt his hand on her shoulder and his mouth right next to her ear, her eyes shooting open and impossibly wide. "Just remember that someday you're gonna be alone without even your _daddy_ around to save you, Waylin. You'll always be alone, and you know why?" He pulled back to look her in the eye, smirking. "You're not even worth the effort to look at."

He gave her another shove, and she slammed into something again, but not the wall this time around. A pair of hands, cold and pale, gripped her by the upper arms and pushed her backwards, holding her steady as Zaktan began to laugh. Blue eyes behind glasses stared into her own, almost condescending.

"N-Nuju..." she stuttered, any previous shred of confidence disappearing in that instant.

"Siahta. So nice to run into you. Again." he replied, his voice edgy, although his gaze was now focused on Zaktan, who was still laughing.

"Give her a hug, Atama!" the green-haired boy sneered. "Oh, but wait - you can't, she'll freeze if you do!" He walked off, still bellowing with laughter, and Nuju, an expression of disgust on his face, politely pushed Siahta away from himself again and dusted his hands off on his pants.

His glare was slightly softer than usual, though, as he turned to look at her. "You let yourself be pushed around too much."

As she always did in his presence, Siahta seemed to deflate even more than she had previously, her shoulders sinking. "I'm sorry." she murmured.

"Don't be sorry. Do something about it, and maybe something different will happen." He couldn't help the condescending tone. Maybe it was because he knew what she COULD be, and what she refused to let herself be.

"For what?" she burst out angrily, but he didn't even blink. "For WHAT, Nuju? For WHAT should I do it for? Nothing's going to change, and you KNOW it--"

She stopped, as his eyes seemed to darken all of a sudden. "Obviously," he said testily, "you should do it for yourself."

And then he walked away from her and was quickly lost in the surge of students around them.

X x X

Natay sucked in air through her clenched teeth, feeling the cut on her calf give another painful twinge, and bent to glare at it through the Band-aid. No amount of Neosporin or anything else would make the stinging go away, to her immense annoyance. Maybe she'd also been bitten by a spider or something? Unlikely, as there was no evidence of a bite, but it was all she could think of. Unless the sharp bit that had cut her had some sort of germs on it...

That was not a comforting thought. As most teenage girls go, Natay was not overly fond of germs (although she was not quite as phobic of them as most were), and the idea of getting possibly diseased was a slightly nauseating one. And then, the jackass sitting behind her that had DARED to come up and try to bitch her out was kicking her seat.

Again.

She blew her long bangs out of her eyes impatiently. Oh man, did she have a headache. And then there was the feeling of being watched last night...

A shiver ran through her spine as she recalled that. If there was one thing she hated, it was being watched, especially when she didn't know WHO was watching. Right now, someone was indeed watching her, and that someone was Onewa. Which annoyed her possibly even more than not knowing who was doing said watching. She didn't WANT the bastard to watch her. She didn't want him to even LOOK at her.

Scribbling on a scrap of paper, she shoved it at him a moment later.

_Stop staring at me._

Onewa shoved it back.

_**How the hell did you know I was looking at you?**_

_Most people can feel eyes on their person. So stop already, I can tell you're still doing it._

_**Screw you, Contrell. I'll look at whoever I want to look at.**_

She gave a little scowl at this reply. Technically, he wasn't doing anything wrong; after all, it wasn't against school rules to stare at the back of someone's head. Especially if said head was in the way of the board.

Instead of replying, she gave a little sniff and focused her attention wholly on Brutaka's lesson, even ignoring his kicks to the back of her chair for the rest of the class. She couldn't, however, resist swinging her backpack JUST SO that it caught him in the face when the bell finally rang and everyone was getting up to leave for their second period class.

And ignoring his outraged shouts after her, she exited the classroom, a little bounce in her step.

X x X

He had never been more glad to get home, Vakama had to admit. Being around that many people was aggravating. Especially since socializing wasn't exactly his thing. Never had been. He'd only ever had a few close friends in his life.

When he stuck the key into the lock and managed to shove the rather old door open, he cocked an ear and listened. Nothing. Good. That meant he would be free to do what he pleased for the rest of the evening.

Before anything else, however, he made his way to the back of the one story house, where his mother's bedroom was. As he had expected, she was practically unconscious on her bed, in a deep sleep. He smiled a bit, looking at her.

After dragging a blanket over her still form (and checking to make sure she was still breathing; that was one heavy sleep), Vakama retreated into his own room, carelessly flinging his backpack onto the floor next to his bed. Homework was never an issue for him; it always got done one way or another, and he wasn't in the mood for it right now. Instead, he got out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil that was admittedly more stub than pencil and began to write.

First, he drew five lines, then another five directly beneath them. At the beginning of the top five was a symbol shaped almost like an "S" - a treble clef. At the beginning of the bottom five was a backwards "C" shape - a bass clef. Satisfied despite his own messy penmanship, he began to fill in notes.

Piano was something he rarely dabbled in; to be honest, he found it hard to do. Guitar was his main preference, although that had become rather easy as of late. No other instrument particularly interested him when it came to playing, although he HAD fooled around with Matau's violin a few times for the sole purpose of annoying the other boy.

"The notes are different...bass to treble..." he muttered, drawing a quarter note in the place for a middle C on the bass measure. "Its equivalent for treble is...hm..."

And so on and so forth. As he continued, his right palm began to feel rather tight and sore, as it always did when he used it overmuch. He had learned to live with it. It was an old scar, and he was stuck with it for the rest of his life. When he had received it, even the doctor had said as much. _"Perhaps if something had been done immediately...but not now. I'm afraid you'll just have to get used it it, kiddo."_

So he had. Damn it, but he had. Even if sometimes at night, he swore he could still feel the blade slicing through his skin and hear his own scream--

That was enough of that thinking. Those kind of thoughts would drive him insane if he let them continue, he knew. He had survived thus far by blocking them out, and he would keep doing so. What had happened was in the past, and that was it.

His pencil slid over the paper as his thoughts wandered. And then there was that girl. Nokama...huh. It was easy to see she was special, even if she WAS annoying. And she had seen his hand, as well. That would undoubtedly lead to more pestering later, once she got tired of him ignoring her. It wasn't something he found to be particularly pleasant. People barging into other people's business was one of his many pet peeves.

There was no denying that she was a pretty girl, though. Very pretty. He had never taken any sort of interest in girls before, and he hadn't planned to start any time soon, but here he was, noticing the way she looked. It made him snort to think of how her brother would react to him thinking this way.

Onewa was a highly temperamental person, anyone could see that. And he was obviously protective of his sister. How would he react to this?

It took Vakama all of eleven seconds to decide he didn't particularly care. Now that someone had managed to pique his interest after a long hiatus of ten years, he wasn't about to let something like an overly protective sibling get in his way. And maybe if he were to spend more time with her, she would begin to...

He had spent ten years wondering about the little girl who had held her hand out to him in the cold all those years, nor ever discarded the stuffed toy she had left behind once her mother came to get her. That same toy was hidden away in a box underneath his bed. He hadn't taken it out since he put it there.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and glanced boredly down at the paper in front of him on the plastic table that served as his desk. It was more filled with doodles than with music, he noted dismally. One of which was a drawing of Nokama. His art skills hadn't improved much, Vakama thought with some amusement, tearing the paper up and putting his pencil down.

His mood for music gone, he got up and retrieved his backpack. Might as well begin work on that essay now.

X x X

When Siahta went home that night, she discovered that her house was severely lacking in things the way of food. As her father was at work until late, it often fell to her to be the one to take care of the house and meals and whatnot. She didn't mind too badly; it made her feel useful. And besides, her father really was not the best cook the world had ever produced. At around five, she had finished with her homework and hurried out to get some groceries before he came home.

The store itself was crowded, and by the time she finally managed to pay for her things and get out, it was almost seven o'clock. She silently said a prayer to whatever God might have been up there that it was finally over. Crowded places were not one of her favorite things in the world. They made her so nervous...

The walk from the grocery store took about half an hour. She hurried as she went along, wishing she had brought a jacket - it was cold. At least she only had three bags this time around; last time there had been six.

As she neared her neighborhood, one of the streetlights closest to her flickered and went out with the sharp popping of glass as the bulb exploded. Siahta frowned, staring up at the affected streetlight. Really, the city had to fix its weird energy problems. That was the third one this year...

She couldn't deny that it was a lot creepier without the light, though, as that was one of only three in this neighborhood. Some stupidity about it being "in the county but not really in the city". She snorted. They had the city's name in their address, so by rights, they were in the city. It was just laziness on the city's part.

Something materialized in front of her, and she froze, eyes wide and hands gripping her bags hard as she tried to make it out. By now, she was desperately wishing she had just stayed home and ordered a pizza.

It was a man, although she couldn't see his face, nor many of his other features. Other than brightly colored hair that hung down in his face, the only thing she could make out was the impeccable suit he wore. She calmed down. It was nothing to be worried about. Just a man out for a walk at night.

"Hello there, miss." His voice was smooth and pleasant. "Are you lost? Need any help with those bags?"

Siahta blinked, trying to smile even as alarm bells went off in her head. "Oh - uh, no thanks, I'm fine," she said. "My house is just right over there, and these aren't too heavy. I'll be alright."

"You know, it's dangerous for a pretty girl to be walking around alone at night. Didn't your mother ever tell you that?" he asked, taking a step closer. Despite this, she still couldn't see his face.

She shrugged. "Yeah, but someone's gotta get groceries."

He was silent for a moment, and she could practically feel his eyes sweeping her up and down. The anxiety grew, and she fought the urge to cut and run as fast as she could.

"Want me to walk you the rest of the way home?"

That question caught her completely off guard, and she was glad that she was still about five or six steps away from him. "Uh, no. No thank you. Um, nice talking to you, but I have to be getting home now. Bye!"

She walked as quickly as she could around him, even going into the street, and hurried away. Her house was just five houses down around the bend there--

Footsteps behind her alerted Siahta to his presence, and without thinking she bolted, running as fast as she was able. Predictably, her pursuer's footsteps quickened as well, and she let out a cry of fear as they grew closer.

His hand clamped down on her shoulder, yanking her backwards roughly. She tumbled, hitting the ground hard with a grunt of pain.

The next instant, he was bending over her, and in his hand was a knife. "Don't be so scared, little mouse." His voice was still pleasant and smooth, and now she could finally see his eyes - yellow as the sun. She could see her reflection in them, white-faced and terrified. "If you'd just accepted my proposal to walk you home, this wouldn't have had to happen. I don't like rejection, especially not when I'm being so polite to you. It's rude."

"G...get away from me!" She twisted and tried to run, but he grabbed her arm and swung her back into the ground. Her grocery bags lay forgotten a few feet away from when he'd grabbed her the first time.

"Now what the hell did I just say about rudeness?" The glint in his eyes was sharper than that of the knife that he was shaking at her now. "As a parent myself, I happen to know a thing or two about raising rebellious kids." he said. "One rule of thumb is that the harsher the punishment, the better the lesson is learned. How harsh should yours be, little mouse?"

She screamed as the knife sliced through the sleeve of her shirt, drawing blood. Soon, it was stained with it all down the front. How come no one was coming out of their houses to help her?! Surely someone must be around...

With a thrill of horror, she remembered that these houses were mostly new - very few people lived on this street just yet. If she had made it around the bend where her own house was, it would have been a different matter, but unfortunately, she was still a street away.

Another scream burst forth as he sliced through her other sleeve and more blood began to run down her shirt. Siahta wasn't the type to get woozy around blood (a papercut for instance had no effect on her), but her own in this quantity was making her feel sick. Or maybe that the fact that she was now losing blood fairly quickly. He'd cut deep with that last slash...

"Have you learned your lesson?" her assailant asked, breath hot on her ear. The only answer was a sob, and he shook her hard, slamming her against the concrete. "Answer me!"

"S-stop..." she cried, and he grinned.

"Is that a yes?"

X x X

How he loved it when women begged. The little girl on the ground in front of him was nowhere near as beautiful as her mother had been, but given time, he was sure they could have been rivals in terms of beauty. Of course, this one wouldn't be given the time. He'd waited long enough, and after being denied his chance the night before, he was literally aching to do this.

She stared up at him, obviously more terrified than she'd ever been before, and he was once again reminded of her mother. Yes, that woman had been beautiful, but she was just one of the many who had wronged him in the past. And then she had cheated him by dying in a car crash, robbing him of his obligation to punish her for her crime. And so he had to make do with her daughter.

The girl sobbed harder when he slid the knife underneath her shirt collar and jerked it downwards, tearing through the fabric with a ripping sound. Hn. So the shirt really hadn't been hiding much. Just another minor complication, and one that really didn't matter in the long run.

As he reached for her leg, the hand that held the knife went up to cover her mouth. "I know there's really no one around to hear you, but if you scream again, I swear I'll kill you. Understand?"

Without waiting for her to acknowledge what he had just told her, he continued his task.

X x X

One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten...eleven...

"Hello, this is Siahta Waylin, but I can't pick up the phone at the current point in time. Please leave your name and number, and I'll call you back when I can...sigh..."

_Beep._

"Siahta, dammit, pick up the phone!" Nuju growled, ignoring the sounds of his parents moving around downstairs. "Or go online or something, I need to know if the Film report's due this Friday or next week. Call me back as soon as you get this message, and not a minute later. Oh yeah, this is Nuju, in case you hadn't figured that out yet. Bye."

He flipped his phone closed and sighed, leaning back on his bed. Damn that girl could annoy him sometimes, even when she wasn't around. Sometimes he wondered why, but always passed it up as just the way she was. Something about her just got to him. He couldn't abide people who let everyone else walk all over them, so maybe that was it.

If she would just...stand up for herself for once, then the problem would be solved. She could be strong if only she were willing to try instead of just moping around and acting like a doormat. That kind of attitude got you nowhere in life.

After about twenty minutes, he picked up his phone again and checked the time. 7:03 PM, and Siahta STILL hadn't called him back. Nor was she online (using the screenname that he had so kindly made for her, for the sole purpose of getting assignments from her in case he missed one).

Nuju was not the kind of person to believe in abstract or abnormal things such as ghosts and psychic powers and whatnot, but right now, something was telling him that there was something very wrong. Siahta usually called him back within ten minutes whenever he left her a message, so why wasn't she doing it now? Maybe she was in trouble or something? Her phone wasn't off, as it had been ringing before, so what was going on?

Perhaps he should just go over to her house to make sure she was alright...no. Scratch that, Nuju Atama did not make house calls just because one little girl might need him. But what if she really WAS in trouble? He knew her father didn't get home until late, so if something had happened, she would be alone and unprotected.

It was an unpleasant thought, made worse by the fact that he had heard about the suspicious activity at Arya Meris's house from Matau Alto. It was a given that there was some sort of psycho on the loose, and in this area. And if Siahta had been stupid enough to go out alone (which he knew she was; she frequently went on walks), then there was a chance that she might have run into this person.

It was irrational to consider it, Nuju knew, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong. He argued with himself for another few minutes before throwing on his shoes and coat and running downstairs, pausing only to tell his parents that he would be back soon. Not that they noticed; they were both too busy with their respective research. Having scientists for parents wasn't always easy, but as a result of that, Nuju had never failed a science or math class in his life. Or any class, really, but that wasn't the point.

The night was cold, just the way he liked it, but instead of pausing to enjoy the chilly air, he took off in the direction of Siahta's house, grateful for once that they lived so close to each other. It would take him about twenty minutes to get there if he walked, maybe ten if he ran.

The feeling of danger swept over him again, and Nuju ran. He ran as fast as he could, pausing only once to retie one of his shoes. He really needed to see about getting a new pair...

X x X

"_Intuition is the feeling that you KNOW - you don't think, you just know. It is a conclusion that you come to without really solid evidence, but somehow you still know the truth. Often, officers of the law will claim to just 'know' when something is wrong with the suspect they have is dangerous in some way or otherwise lying to them. They are unable to say how exactly they came to this conclusion, but that something allowed them to simply sense it. In ways such as that, intuition can be a powerful tool, not one to be taken lightly."_

X x X

**AN: Alright, finally, some action! The story was starting to bore me, so I threw some in. Because seriously, what's a killer if he doesn't actually, you know, try to live up to his title? Not a very good one. Part of this was sort of inspired by **_**A Nightmare on Elm Street**_** and **_**Freddy vs. Jason**_**, both of which were horribly stupid but massively entertaining nonetheless. Sigh.**

**And finally, some insight! Er, yeah, too much mystery surrounding characters tends to piss me off, so I try not to do it TOO much...yeah. You may recognize the character Mano (the guy from the beginning of the chapter) as my puppet-wielding Vortixx character, who I've used in other stories. His role really isn't that big, so I thought it was OK to stick him in here.**

**Review, please!**


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